Val Jean
by continuumAO3
Summary: What if Voyager had been destroyed in Caretaker instead of the Maquis ship? These are episode rewrites, with the goal of both following canon and thoughtfully examining how the Val Jean's adventures would have to diverge from it. If this interests you, the story continues on AO3 /works/1171946).


The Maquis cell leader and his chief engineer had barely made it back to the bridge of the _Val Jean_, their injuries and illness patched up good as new by the Feds' computerized doctor, when a hail came from the Starfleet captain. "Janeway to Chakotay. Tuvok and I are beaming to the array. Can you hold off the Kazon?"

Apparently her first approach had not been well received. So much for vaunted Starfleet diplomacy. The skipper of the _Val Jean_ spared a brief look at his instruments. Two small Kazon scoutships. "Sure can, Captain." His crew slipped into the easy tension of battlestations. Tuvok's absence was a burning angry hole at his back. Mike Ayala swung into the weapons officer's seat, replacing the man who'd been infiltrating them all along. "All right. You all know the drill. Evasive maneuvers. Mike, take the shots as I give them to you. Here we go."

It was good flying, good shooting. _Voyager_ helped out too, and Chakotay got the hang of firefighting with a capital ship on his side. It was a matter of boxing in the enemy, forcing them into range of the larger vessel's phasers. It was interesting strategy, different from fighting alone. He wondered, darkly, whether that was Paris' flying he was dancing with. But just as the second Kazon raider exploded, a new blip appeared on his readout to wipe away his other worries. This was a big one.

The enormous battleship, many times the size of _Voyager_, completely ignored the _Val Jean_ and closed in on the cruiser. They were exchanging barrages, _Voyager_'s pilot doing his best to use the ship's comparative maneuverability. Probably was Paris at the helm, with all that fancy footwork.

Chakotay flew his ship in close, a fly buzzing at a mammoth. Their weapons weren't making a dent. Meanwhile, _Voyager_ was taking quite a beating. His heart sank a little as a direct hit took out one of her warp nacelles. That wasn't going to get fixed, not out here. She was zagging, floundering. Plus, she'd switched to photon torpedoes. "Looks like their weapons array has been hit. They're in trouble."

B'Elanna looked up through the window. "Neither of us has enough firepower to stop that ship…"

"Look for weaknesses," he called to his crew. At the same time, he wondered what the hell Janeway was up to on that array. They should be using it to get back now, not buying her time by fighting a superior force. He could only watch as _Voyager_'s ventral shields flickered and failed as well, a blast of phaser fire raking several decks deep across her belly. Dammit.

"Janeway to Chakotay." She was back aboard, then. Beamed up now that the shields were gone?

"Captain! We need to get out of here now!"

Her comm link was scratchy audio only. "—thrusters only—my crew aboard—collision course."

But he didn't have to get the whole message to see what was happening. _Voyager_, her whole midsection a desiccated corpse, was turning in towards the battleship. Whether the collision was planned or unavoidable, it was a target impossible to miss.

"Kurt! When I drop the shields, start beaming any lifesigns you can get into our cargo bay, starting with their bridge" He pressed the button. "Now, now, now!"

Poor Kurt wrestled with his console. "There's too much interference from the weapons fire. Our transporters can't work under these conditions!"

"Wide-beam if you have to. I don't care if we pick up half their bulkheads, as long as we get people too."

Everyone in the cramped cockpit, Kurt excepted, craned up through the window in horrid fascination as _Voyager_ collided nose-first into the behemoth. She crinkled like so much foil. At first, it looked like she had smashed herself into a solid wall without effect. But then, near the impact site, small explosions started to blossom and grow. And grow. Shit.

"Got them?"

"Got some," Kurt shot back.

"It'll have to be enough." He raised shields and pulled his ship away at maximum speed. Sure enough, on his tail, the Kazon ship turned into a pyrotechnics show.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chakotay and B'Elanna made their way down to the cargo bay. There were sparking piles of debris littered everywhere. Kurt hadn't been kidding with the wide-beam transporter. He'd picked up large chunks of the Fed ship along with the survivors. Chakotay coughed through the acrid smoke. His eyes started to make out shapes, bodies on the ground. He looked for her, a small woman in red. There— Tuvok was helping her to her feet, but she continued to lean unsteadily on him. The familiarity between them made him want to recoil.

"Captain Janeway," he called.

"Captain," she acknowledged, her eyes seeking his. "You need to move your ship away from the array."

"Away?" B'Elanna interjected. "The array is the only way we have to get back home!" Janeway only stared steadily back at her, bleeding from a gash on her forehead. "What have you done?"

Janeway stood a little straighter. "I'm not willing to trade the lives of the Ocampa for our convenience. We'll have to find another way—"

B'Elanna snarled in rage and launched herself at the woman. Chakotay barely intercepted her, and it took all his strength to yank her back. "What other way home is there?" she yelled. "How dare she make that decision for all of us?"

"Chakotay," the Federation captain said tightly, "Your ship. In less than one minute, that array will explode."

One hand firmly on B'Elanna's arm, the other on her back, he wordlessly pushed her out into the hallway and towards the cockpit. They wouldn't need him up there, though, not now that the fighting was over. He pressed the comm panel on the wall of the cargo bay. "Mike. Max speed away from the array. No questions." Then he turned back to the haze and debris. Tuvok was gently helping his captain to sit down, looking to her wound. Further back in the smoke, someone was groaning in pain. The _Val Jean_ had no doctor, only the most basic field skills. Janeway didn't look so good. Inexplicably, that sent a pang through Chakotay's chest. He went to kneel by her.

The strength and presence she'd had a moment ago had slipped away. She blinked, trying to focus her eyes. "What's— what's the status of my ship?" she managed. "My crew?"

He shook his head, seeing again the horribly slow way the magnificent _Voyager_ had crumpled against the Kazon juggernaut. Suddenly imagining what it would be like for a captain to lose her ship, nearly all her crew dead. "I…" But Captain Janeway's eyes were already closed, her face slacking into unconsciousness which was, certainly, sweeter than the news he had to bring.

Tuvok steadied her head in his big hands, looking up evenly at the Maquis skipper. "Tell me," he said with barely a crack in his Vulcan calm, "and I will tell it to her when she wakes."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Four.

A hundred and forty crew had set out on the starship _Voyager_ when she'd left Deep Space 9. Now it was just the four of them.

Each was encased in their own impenetrable shell in the cargo bay. Tom spared a sidelong glance at Harry, sitting against the wall, his head now resting on his arms, knees drawn up. Maybe he'd fallen asleep. Tuvok sat vigil over his captain, his eyes open, but turned inwards. Maybe he was meditating. Tom had some training as a field medic, and the _Val Jean_ had medkits, though no doctor. He'd treated Janeway's concussion, seen the weary way she came around to consciousness. Told Tuvok that head trauma patients weren't supposed to have any more shocks. "She deserves to know," the implacable Vulcan had replied. "She would want to know." So Tom just watched while he leaned over her and they quietly conversed. Just watched as she turned her head away and tears flowed freely on her empty face.

They were lost, each of them. Maybe that was why Tuvok hadn't left the Captain's side. Tom felt it too, the need. To have someone nearby. Wearily, he dragged himself over to sit next to Harry, shoulders brushing. Poor Harry. He was so young. Too young for any of this. When Tom finally slept, his head nodded down to rest on the kid's shoulder.

=/\= =/\= =/\=

Chakotay could only give them space for so long. His crew were muttering darkly, angrily, about the contents of the cargo bay. Two traitors they'd once trusted and fought beside. One Fed captain who'd hunted them down and deliberately exiled them from ever seeing their homes and families again.

"And one green-behind-the ears newly-graduated cadet," B'Elanna added. It was turning into an unofficial meeting in the mess, the three of them eating together. "He's alright. Maybe he'd turn rebel. But the rest of them—"

"We'll leave them on the next inhabitable planet," Seska finished. It was a more humane idea than some the crew bandied about. "At least we have some salvageable Starfleet equipment from the wreckage, even a backup computer core."

Behind Chakotay, somebody cleared his throat. "Excuse me sir, I mean, if you don't mind— what about us? Our ship was destroyed, but perhaps, if we could get passage as far as Talaxian space, or even…"

He'd nearly forgotten about the two rescued Delta quadrant passengers. They'd been beamed off the bridge too, and come out of it with barely a scratch. "This isn't a passenger ship," he sighed, already weary with the decisions he hadn't yet steeled himself to make.

"Of course not," said sweet, young Kes. She didn't look a day over eighteen. Chakotay felt like a dirty old man even looking in her general direction. "We won't be passengers."

Her… boyfriend? friend? Neelix nodded along. "We'll be valuable colleagues."

Chakotay was at a bit of a loss. "Colleagues?"

"We know you've lost crewmen. We just thought some extra hands might be useful," Kes said gently.

Neelix bubbled along obliviously. "Whatever you need is what I have to offer. You need a guide? I'm your guide. You need supplies? I know where to procure them. I have friends among races you don't even know exist. You need a cook? Oh, you haven't lived until you've tasted my angla'bosque. It will be my job to anticipate your needs before you know you have them. And I anticipate your first need will be… me!"

B'Elanna and Seska both sat flabbergasted by the strange little alien. Chakotay considered the offer. Someone who knew the region? Supplies? Local food? Well, why not?

Kes looked at the three of them hanging in that silence with her big earnest blue eyes. "What you're doing is going to be incredibly difficult, but also incredibly brave. Please, we both want very much to be part of your journey."

Brave? That's right, brave. Chakotay tried to pull the mantle back to him, the mantle of decision and determination of the future. He'd lost it, for a moment, to this little girl. Now she was handing it back. And there were a few things more he knew he had to do with it.

"You're right. This ship does need more hands. Seska will see to it that you get an empty set of quarters. Welcome to the crew."

When they were gone, he turned back to B'Elanna, thoughts churning. "We set out with a complement of twenty-two. We've lost Yosa, Doyle, Carlson, O'Donnell, and Ann. They were good people. It's going to be hard to run this ship with under twenty."

"We'll manage. We always do."

Chakotay got up. "We won't have to."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

He had called her to his quarters. This was a talk they should have alone. She'd shed the uniform jacket, and she looked even smaller, maybe younger, in her military grey sleeves, her hair pulled back in a simple long ponytail.

"Crew quarters ok for you and Mr. Tuvok?"

"Yes."

"I'm sorry about the doubles, we don't have a lot of space on this boat, nearly everyone shares—"

"It's good. Good for us not to be alone."

That was more of an admission than he'd expected. But then, she was no longer the woman he'd met two days ago. The bright woman who commanded a room with a sweep of her eyes, who moved like a tightly coiled spring. Now she was gone. There was something… dead about the flatness of her voice, about the way she stared through him.

"I've been thinking," he started, "about where we go from here. If you prefer, I can set you down on an inhabitable planet, or we might run into some friendly aliens like Neelix's people. But… I've lost some good crewmen. We're in a new quadrant, and Jor is the only one left with any science training. Plus… the Maquis aren't exactly known to be diplomats." What was supposed to be an offer had started to sound like a plea. Did she have that effect on everyone? "I've seen what you can do. I'd really like to have you by my side. As my second-in-command."

She looked up sharply at that. "What would your crew think about that?"

"You'd have to give up the uniform, and we don't stand by rank here. You'd have to do things our way. But they'd accept it. I won't tolerate otherwise."

"What about my crew?"

"Mr. Tuvok and Mr. Paris are about as popular as you are right now. I won't lie to you— these are people we worked with personally, people who fought by our side, people we trusted with our lives. There's a lot of anger around here. But I won't let anyone get hurt. I won't put them on regular duty shifts yet— they'll have to earn _my_ trust back. Call it probation. Harry Kim can start whenever he likes. B'Elanna could really use a software guy, and it seems they get along all right."

She nodded, still stiff. "I've already talked to them. Being put offship means losing any chance we have of going home. And we— Yes. Thank you. We will do our best to contribute to your crew."

She paused. Chakotay realized she was waiting to be dismissed. Habits die hard. Just as well. "I found something, cleaning out the debris in the cargo bay. Something of yours." He reached across the distance between them and handed her the picture frame. The front glass had shattered, but the old-fashioned paper photograph was still there. The photograph of her, smiling into the camera with a handsome greying man and a shaggy irish setter.

She held it, stared at it.

"Who is he?" Chakotay asked.

"Mark. My fiancé."

He'd figured something like that. He still felt terrible about his next question. "Can I ask you something? Why'd you do it? Blow it up?"

She picked the photograph out of the shattered frame and tucked it into her palm. Now, now her eyes were bright as she looked away. "If we'd left it, in the hands of the Kazon… they would have wiped out the Ocampa. And who knows what else." She didn't sound entirely convinced.

She'd given up her chance to go back to her fiancé, and made that choice for some hundred and sixty other people, including her closest friend, to save a race of a couple million. When you put it that way, by the numbers, it sounded pretty clear. Chakotay wondered whether he would have done the same.

"For what it's worth, I don't think you were wrong." And then he let her go, with the order she needed to hear. "Dismissed."

=/\= =/\= =/\=

He gathered them all in the small mess to make his announcement. His speech. Spirits, he hated speeches. But when he saw how the four Feds were clumped on one side, not blending in despite their new brownclothes, and how Neelix and Kes stood alone in a corner, he knew a speech would be necessary.

Chakotay cleared his throat. "Now, all of you, look here." The tense murmurs stopped immediately. "We're alone, in an uncharted part of the galaxy. We've made some friends here," he jabbed a finger at the two natives, who stood a little straighter, "but we've also made some enemies. We have no idea of the dangers we're going to face. But one thing is clear. We need all the hands we can get. Whatever our pasts, we're now in this together. And if we want to survive, we'd better start by getting along. That's why I've decided to invite these people, these skilled people, to join us. To give up rank, give up uniforms, and to join our Maquis crew. And why I've decided to make Kathryn Janeway my exec." The murmuring was starting, but Chakotay shut it down. "Let me remind you that Tuvok here acted out of his sense of duty. Misplaced duty, yes, but duty still to what he honestly believed in. Let me remind you, also, that two days ago Tom Paris saved my life. So, Mr. Paris, take this pardon and we'll call it even. These people have lost their ship, their colleagues, and they're just as alone as we are. Even more so." He put genuine steel into his voice. "Anyone who gives them trouble will have to answer to me."

"Now. There's one thing we're all out here to do: to get back home, no matter what it takes. Even at maximum speeds, it would take this little ship several centuries to get back to the Alpha quadrant. But I'm not getting any younger," he smiled, "and I'm not willing to settle for that. There's another entity like the Caretaker out there who has the ability to get us back a lot faster. We'll be looking for her, and we'll be looking for wormholes, spatial rifts, or new technologies to help us. You don't follow me because of some oath, or because someone's holding a phaser to your head. Anyone who wants to leave can settle. But I think you follow me because you trust me when I promise you this: we won't rest until we find a way back, to our brothers and sisters, our lovers and parents and children. And because we're a family who would rather stick together than live with strangers. We are Maquis, and we remember."

Scattered murmurs echoed back. "We remember, we remember."

He took a breath, after what seemed like a long time, in the absolute stillness after those last words. "Ok, back to work. I'm going back up there and setting a course. For home."


End file.
